This Year's New Year's Eve
by Crazy Danae
Summary: Follow-up to "Doctor Baby". After all, it's only fair that the Doctor should respond to Rose. One Shot.


**This Year's New Year's Eve  
**Ripped off… Inspired by "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?"  
By Danae619

_**A/N:**__ This is a sequel to "Doctor Baby"… and the reason is this: Around Thanksgiving (4__th__ Thursday in November for those not in the U.S.), I start listening to Christmas/holiday music. Yesterday, I was thinking about "Doctor Who" and how much I love it while driving and listening to my music. And when Eartha Kitt started "Santa Baby," it hit me. Then I thought, wouldn't it be funny if the Doctor (10__th__ incarnation, of course) and Rose were able to exchange holiday song modifications… We'll see if I can continue with holidays throughout the year…_

* * *

The Doctor had left without Martha feeling relief and resignation. He'd known from the moment he'd done the DNA transfer that there'd be trouble. It was just that he'd promised Donna that he'd find someone and Martha had been the only useful person in the hospital. And he'd known that being alone for much longer would sink him back in the anger and misery he'd experienced since he'd lost Rose.

He let the T.A.R.D.I.S. spin in the void for a while as he slumped in his control room chair. Thinking of Rose was an exquisitely painful experience that he enjoyed more often than was probably useful. But he'd deserved a treat. A year with the Master and months with Martha needed some down time. He stretched out with his feet on the console to settle down in a long night's sulk.

Before he was able to reach optimal pout, a high pop sounded and something thwacked him on the top his head. He was about to demand what was going on from the T.A.R.D.I.S. and then realized that was really an exercise in futility. She wasn't going to answer him. His brow twisted with puzzlement as he discovered it was a wad of paper. A smile unconsciously spread his lips as the excited curiosity of his nature griped him.

As he spread it open, his eyes widened as he recognized Rose's handwriting. Then he started to chuckle. His eyes rapidly devoured the page. His eyes flowed over the page a second time. "T.A.R.D.I.S. dear, do we have an instrumental of the 20th century's 'Santa Baby'?" As the music flowed over him, he imagined Rose singing her song. As always, he was delighted by her. As the song ended, he knew what he had to do.

He raced into the bowels of his ship, looking for the right room. Finally, he found his writing desk and pulled out an elegant piece of parchment. He paused for a moment. A letter would be too staid, but what could he do? Soft music filled the room and he giggled with glee. "Thanks, T.A.R.D.I.S.," he murmured as he bent to his task…

"I know that I'm entirely to blame.  
It's just that you're such a fantastic dame.  
What are you doing this year's  
New Year's Eve?

"Did you find arms to hold you good and tight?  
Do you sleep soundly throughout the whole night?  
Or do you have some new fears  
As dark nears?

"Maybe I'm crazy to suppose  
I'd still be the one you chose.  
I should just leave you the protection  
You have now.

"Oh, but if there's a tiny little chance  
That you would come back in my arms to dance,  
I might need to change my gears  
As time nears.

"Maybe I'm crazy to proceed.  
Warnings I'm choosing not to heed.  
If I can get you back beside me,  
I don't care!

"If you were here, we'd share a silly glance.  
Would you tell me I shouldn't take the chance?  
We'll be together next year's  
New Year's Eve!"

The Doctor read it through. "Rhyme's a little weak in spots, but who knows how long the anomaly will last." Quickly, he signed his name before crumpling his missive into a ball and throwing it into the air. It disappeared with a satisfying pop. "I promise, Rose," he murmured before turning to the task at hand. "T.A.R.D.I.S., please put all the texts for dimensional travel and T.A.R.D.I.S. protection in the control room, would you?" Whistling, he went on the most important search of his life.


End file.
